


the house of the rising sun

by cosmicpoet



Series: momoharu week 2019 [4]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: 1700s, 1800s, 1990s, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Influenza, Murder, Needles, Reincarnation, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Maki and Kaito meet, in multiple timelines, in multiple places. Some things stay the same in each storyline, no matter how much they try to fix themselves.





	the house of the rising sun

**_1781_ **

The carriage comes to collect Maki from what is no longer her home. There’s no sadness in her eyes when she looks back on the four walls, holding a small suitcase that has everything she owns in. Getting this job is a new lease of life for her - she can put her caregiving skills to good use, and it pays better than any of the short-term vacancies she’s filled so far, with the added bonus of getting to live in a mansion. The contract description states that she’ll be helping with household duties and the care of four children. Besides this, though, she knows nothing else.

As she sits in the back of the carriage, she pulls at the fingers of the gloves on her hands; they look like silk, but they’re not made of the real thing. It embarrasses her to think of it, how she’s going to be working and living in such grandeur, and yet she doesn’t own anything of testament to the wealth she’s going to be surrounded by. There’s always been a hatred in her heart for the societal class imbalance, but she doesn’t believe that she - just one, unimportant person in a sea of the whole world - can do anything about it.

Two hours later, the carriage pulls up outside her new home. It’s massive - bigger than she’d imagined. Surrounded by an expanse of grass, it stands at almost castle-stature, looming over her. She thanks the driver, panicking because she doesn’t know how much she’s supposed to tip him for the ride; not that she has anywhere near enough money anyway, but she’d rather give him everything and save her pride than admit that all of this is a strange reality to her. When she pulls out her purse, however, he merely tips his hat and tells her that the ride is already paid for.

And then she’s alone, watching the carriage trickle down the road until it becomes a blur on the horizon. It takes her a moment to compose herself, push her nerves to the bottom of her stomach and let them fester, and then she reaches her hand up to the large brass knocker and makes her presence, for the first time in her life, known.

A young girl opens the door and then skirts down the hallway, running off laughing. Maki steps over the threshold and follows her, breathless and speechless at the sheer size of the place. She rounds the corner and finds the girl laughing with a boy of the same age.

“I’m Maki,” she says, “and I’m here to help out. What are your names?”

“I’m Chiyo,” the girl says, “and this is Goro.”

“Beautiful names! There are four of you, aren’t there?”

“Five of us!”

“Five?”

“Yep! Me, Goro, Yuuki, Ichi, and our big bro Kaito!”

“Oh. Thank you for telling me. Now, have you all had lunch?”

“Nope!”

“Are you hungry?”

Chiyo and Goro nod their heads.

“Alright. Why don’t you go and find your brother and sister and I’ll make you something really nice to eat, yeah?”

They skip off and Maki hears them going up at least three flights of stairs. She directs herself towards the back of the house, hoping to find a kitchen there. When she does, she busies herself in her work, knowing that she’s good at what she does, she doesn’t need to fear being a caregiver because it’s all she knows how to do. Honestly, she didn’t know what to expect, but the notion of being directed to a house occupied _only_ by the four children for whom she is caring is ridiculous. Of course there’s someone else, although she rather expected it to be a mother or father, perhaps even a grandparent.

When all of the children are sitting down for lunch, she washes the dishes and cleans up the kitchen, wondering when this mysterious Kaito is going to make an appearance. Still, the day weans on, and she’s putting the children to bed before she knows it. It occurs to her that she has no idea which bedroom she’s expected to sleep in, and so before she blows out the candle, she asks Chiyo where she can find Kaito, but none of the children can give a solid answer as to where their brother is.

Determined not to sleep until she’s met whoever is in charge of the house, she walks through each floor, peeking into every room for any sign of life. She makes her way through all five of the floors with no indication of another person besides her and the children, until she finds herself standing at the bottom of a ladder leading to the attic, the only remaining place that she hasn’t yet checked. Fears of ghost stories that she used to tell to the younger children when she herself was barely a teenager prick their way through her mind, but she brushes them away with the thought that this job is her only way of clinging to a life that she can rely on.

And she makes her way up.

The candle that she’s carrying illuminates the vast expanse of cold space, and she shivers. There’s another light at the back of the attic, and she approaches it.

“Kaito?”

Something drops to the floor and shatters, and she gasps. The candle that she’d seen goes out, and then there’s the sound of fumbling, relighting a flint to take flame to the wick, and then the face of a young man becomes illuminated in front of her. He looks tired. So, so tired. She’d guess that he’s around twenty-five, making him at maximum two years her superior. It’s obvious that he’s from a wealthy family, from the tailored waistcoat that is hugging his waist tightly, but it looks as though he doesn’t know how to take care of himself properly - his hair is longer than normal for a man of his status, tied back loosely with a black ribbon. There are dark circles etched in weariness on his face, and he hunches over slightly, but he’s got kindness in his eyes, and is by all means a very attractive man, even by Maki’s high standards.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Maki. I’ve been hired to help out with household duties and childcare.”

“Wait, what day is it?”

“17th of September, sir.”

“Drop the sir. Please. I’ll start to sound like my grandfather.”

“Sorry.”

“Have you just arrived? I’m sorry, things get away from me easily these days. How are the children? They’ll probably want some lunch.”

“It’s 8pm, si- I mean, Kaito. They’re fast asleep in bed, don’t worry. They’ve had a healthy lunch and dinner, and now they’re sleeping.”

“God, is it really so late?”

“Yes. May I ask why you’re up here?”

“There’s a lot to sort out since…shall we go downstairs? I think a proper welcome into the house is due.”

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

They descend the ladder, and she follows him into the grand living room on the ground floor of the house. He takes a key from a chain around his neck, unlocking a small chest next to the chaise longue; taking out a bottle of aged whiskey and two glasses, he pours one for himself and one for her, before lying down on the chaise longue, his hand clenched around the glass, wilting over the side.

“Am I permitted to drink with you?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes. It’s just that…you know…I’m hired to help around the house. There’s no obligation to treat me this nicely.”

“You came in here and gave my siblings meals, occupied their afternoon, put them to bed. Without you, they’d be starving and crying and I’d still be losing track of time in that attic. Trust me, Maki, I owe you one. Besides, I hate all that imbalance shit that people think matters so much. We’re all just people. Nobody’s better or worse than anyone else. We’re all just fucking drinking partners until we die.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a stressful month.”

“May I ask why?”

“My grandfather passed away at the beginning of August. I’ve been trying to handle his affairs and manage the household, but he left us with a lot of paperwork and not a lot of help.”

“So you hired me.”

“Yes. I forgot all about it until you came up to the attic.”

“What were you doing in there?”

“Going through some of the deeds for the house and such. His last will left everything to us five. My parents are sadly departed, as is my grandmother, so me and my siblings are the only heirs to all of this,” he gestures to the room around him.

“You look tired. When did you last sleep?”

“What day is it?”

“Monday.”

“Oh, uh…maybe Thursday? Friday?”

“You should rest. A good night’s sleep will make everything clearer.”

“I can’t,” he drinks the whole glass of whiskey in one go, “there’s too much to do.”

“And it’ll still be there in the morning. Burning yourself out won’t help anything.”

He pours himself another glass of whiskey, throwing it back in the same fashion as the previous one. When he refills his glass for a third time, he looks up at her and the sadness in his eyes turns her insides cold.

“Look at me,” he laughs bitterly, “I’m barely twenty four and I’ve got all this on my shoulders.”

“It isn’t fair,” she agrees, “is there nothing you can do? Nobody you can ask for help?”

“My grandparents didn’t get this rich by making friends.”

“And you?”

“I don’t have friends either.”

“Why?”

“I never needed them.”

“Really?”

“We were schooled inside this house by private tutors. The whole thing, y’know, piano lessons, English lessons, Russian lessons, Japanese lessons. I’m fluent in three languages but I’ve got nobody to talk to.”

“You’ve got me.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re the same age, you’re evidently well read and interesting. There’s lots we could talk about.”

“I’m not the best conversational partner.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she says.

She tries to think of something to talk about. There’s a compelling force within her, pulling her towards him, wanting to cheer him up. It’s almost as if the air around him can’t bear to push him any further, lest his bones break one by one and he’ll crumble.

God, she doesn’t want to watch anyone crumble any more.

By the time she opens her mouth, she looks over to him. His eyes are closed, and he’s snoring lightly, the empty whiskey glass still in his hand. With all the caution of someone who truly cares, she sets the glass aside and finds a blanket behind the chaise longue, draping it over him. When she realises that she still doesn’t know where she’s supposed to sleep, she simply sets herself down on the rocking chair in the corner of the room, folds her hands over her lap, and closes her eyes.

In the morning, she wakes early. Dawn hasn’t yet broken, but she didn’t sleep well because of her position and the worries about Kaito playing on her mind. He’s still asleep when she gets up, as are the children, so she tidies up a little with the free time that she has, before making breakfast. Whilst the meal is slowly cooking in the stove, she wakes up the children and instructs them to brush their teeth and wash their faces, and to get ready for the day.

Back downstairs, she starts to load up breakfast onto plates when she hears someone enter the room behind her. It’s Kaito.

“I’ll do that,” he says, “don’t worry about it.”

“You’re paying me to help out,” she replies, “and it’s my honour. Sit down.”

He sits at the table, lounging back in the chair and running his hands through his messy hair. When she looks at him, he doesn’t look refreshed, and she loads up extra food onto his plate, guessing that it’s been days since he’s had something substantial to eat. The children make their way downstairs and join their brother at the table, and she sets a plate in front of each of them.

“Aren’t you joining us?” Kaito asks.

“I didn’t think it proper.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I don’t often eat breakfast.”

“Not what I asked.”

“Then no, I’m not hungry.”

“Will you sit with us anyway?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Then alright,” she says, sitting at the opposite end of the table from Kaito. She’s yet to unlearn the biases within herself that tell her she’s not good enough to sit in the neat circle of the rich. Although she didn’t make enough breakfast for herself, she was lying to him, she _is_ hungry, but she’s well trained enough to push that aside and wait for her evening meal. It’s what she’s used to, after all.

Once breakfast is finished and cleared away, she begins preparations for the lessons of the day. Since the children don’t have a private tutor yet, she decides that it will be in their best interest to occupy their days with learning basic things, like reading and simple sums. It’s one of the things she prides herself on - having no formal education, but having taught herself how to read, how to do mathematics, and having skill enough to help others learn.

Kaito spends the day in the attic, and Maki tries to put him out of her mind as she progresses with the lessons of the day. Once the sun has set, and the children are in bed once again, she treads back to the place she first met him, this time to ask Kaito where she should sleep.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” he says, “it didn’t even cross my mind. I’ll show you to your bedroom.”

He leads her to a large room on the third floor. It’s bigger than any of the houses she’s lived in before coming here.

“This is yours,” he says to her.

“Wow…thank you.”

“Oh! And if you look over here,” he opens up a large walk-in closet, filled with fine dresses and outfits, “these are all yours too. I didn’t want you to think we were unwelcoming, so I ordered them in. If they’re the wrong size, I can get a tailor out to fit them all. If there’s anything at all you need - _anything -_ just let me know, okay?”

“I…thank you.”

“It’s really nothing.”

“Maybe to you,” she says.

“S-Sorry,” he stutters out, “I don’t mean to be insensitive.”

“You’re not. Don’t worry.”

“Right, well, uh, I’ll let you rest. You’ve been up and down all day. Is there anything I can bring you?”

“You’re really not used to having help around the house, are you? _I_ should be asking _you_ that.”

“You’ve helped us out all day. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“Alright. Well, if you need me, my bedroom is just across the hall. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m _fine,_ Kaito. You should get some rest, too.”

“Yeah. Maybe,” he says, smiling at her as he leaves the room.

Carried into dreams on real silk sheets, Maki finds herself falling asleep easier than she ever has before. When she wakes up, it’s still pitch black outside, but she’s more rested than ever. Deciding to get up and go for a walk, she pads out of the room, still in her nightdress.

Once she’s out into the hallway, she hears gentle piano music, so faint that there’s a possibility she’s imagining it. Still, she follows the sound down to the ground floor, where it spreads out from a room near the front of the house.

The door is open and she peeks through, seeing Kaito, wearing pyjamas, sitting at the piano and playing it flawlessly. He doesn’t even notice that she’s standing there, and she’s glad of it, because the music is so ethereal that she’d hate to be the cause of its end. When the song finishes naturally, he puts his head in his hands and sighs heavily.

“Are you alright?” Maki asks.

“Oh,” he turns around, startled, “I didn’t know you were there. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No. This house is so big, I didn’t hear until I left my room anyway. It’s…you play beautifully.”

“Thank you. Do you play?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen a piano.”

“Would you like to learn?”

“Yes,” she says, “but I won’t be any good.”

“Neither was I at first. C’mon, sit with me.”

She joins him on the piano stool and he lays his hands over hers, guiding her to certain keys. She presses them when he tells her to, as he plays a light melody with his right hand. The song is carried by him, and she doesn’t think she’s helping at all, but it’s nice to hear, and her heart flutters every time his strong hands cover hers and guide her.

In the end, they play until it’s light outside, and then another day begins, crowned by music and softness.

Over the passing months, she learns a few basic pieces on piano, with Kaito’s help. Her duties are still focused on childcare and household help, trying to aid him whenever he lets her with all the paperwork that his grandfather left behind. When May rolls around, and the springtime is in full bloom, Kaito informs her that he’s arranged for his siblings to go to boarding school across the country, now that they’re of the age to be in full time education.

“But,” he says, just after telling her, “I don’t want…I don’t want you to leave.”

“If there’s still help you need, I’ll stay.”

“I mean, I don’t want you to leave _me.”_

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the first real friend I’ve had. I’m asking if you’d like to live here permanently. Not as a caregiver, or as household help, but as my best friend. There’s enough money for the both of us to spend our days playing piano and watching the stars without having to care about a single thing.”

“I…I’d like that,” she says, stunned.

“Thank goodness,” he replies, “because I was terrified you’d want out of here as fast as you could.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I’m hardly interesting company, am I?”

“Are you serious? Kaito, you’ve taught me _so much._ And you’re fun to be around. I like spending time with you. I genuinely, honestly enjoy it.”

On the first day that they have alone together, Kaito wakes her up with breakfast in bed. It’s very rare that he wakes up before her, and he looks tired when he comes into her room, but he’s smiling when she smiles, and that’s enough.

Together, they play piano until the midday sun hits, and then they go out into the vast garden. As far as she can see, there’s nothing but grass, flowers, trees, all of them opening up for them to run and chase each other in, not caring for anything except the laughter that shines against the sun.

Summer is kind to them, and they are kind to each other. Even when the months dwindle and the air gets colder, they still walk together through the grounds of the house, crunching leaves beneath their feet and letting the remnants become lost to the breeze. One day, Kaito orders a set of fine paints, and Maki sits on the chaise longue - the site of their first night together - whilst he commits her every imperfection to memory, telling her how beautiful she is, how much he loves the mole under her eye, the scar on her hand; everything she’s self-conscious about, he somehow adores.

There’s no use using the cold weather as an excuse for when they decide to share the same bed. It’s pure love that drives them to this, overwhelming and warm, as they hold each other and fall asleep.

Something is wrong when she wakes up. She can’t pinpoint it, but it’s there, and it only materialises itself when she opens her eyes and the harrowing pieces fall together; Kaito is boiling hot next to her, but he’s shivering, and slicked in sweat. His eyes are closed, but his breaths are shuddering and violent. When she shakes him to wake him up, he only stirs slightly.

“Kaito! _Kaito!”_

“M-Maki,” he says, slurring his words.

“Hold on, I’ll get a doctor!”

She can’t comprehend what he says next. He’s feverish and shaking, and his words are murky. She runs from the house in her pyjamas, with bare feet, out of the grounds of the house. When she hails the attention of passers by, she urges for someone to get a doctor. It’s an hour before she’s sitting in the back of a carriage with a doctor at her side, fumbling over a description of Kaito’s state. As the carriage parks up at the front of the house, she whirlwinds inside, leading the doctor upstairs to Kaito.

Thank goodness he’s still alive.

The doctor assesses his symptoms whilst Maki holds onto Kaito’s hand.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers, “I promise.”

A little more coherent now, he opens his eyes and looks at her.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re going to be fine,” she replies, “just fine.”

“I…I’m confused.”

“I know, darling, I know. But the doctor’s here, now, and he’s going to make you better.”

“Y-You should leave.”

“What?”

“Y-You m-might get s-sick.”

“I don’t care. I’m with you.”

“I…w-where am I?”

“C’mon Kaito, you can push through this. You’re going to be fine.”

“I n-need to tell you something…I…I forgot…w-what is it?”

“You can tell me later, I promise. When you’re all better, yeah?”

“C-Can we play piano today?”

“Of course we can, my love. We can play piano every day.”

“I…that’s g-good. I’m t-tired now,” he says, closing his eyes. Panic writes itself into history across the doctor’s face, and she knows, now. She knows that this was always going to end this way. But that doesn’t mean she has to let it.

“No, Kaito, you hear me? _No!_ You’re not leaving me, not yet. Just hold on, you’re going to be fine. Isn’t he, doctor? _Isn’t he?”_

“I…I remember,” Kaito says, shuddering, “w-what I needed t-to tell you.”

“Shh, just save your energy. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“I…remember. I…I l-love…”

Kaito’s breath catches in his throat, and blood trickles down his lip as he gives out one last, hacking cough. His head jerks up and down, falling onto the pillow, as his eyelids flutter and then close.

The doctor looks at her with sincerity and sorrow in his eyes.

She holds onto Kaito’s body and screams.

* * *

 

**_1859_ **

Maki cleans glasses at the bar and sneakily refills her own pint, knowing that the owner of the pub in which she works doesn’t care enough to pay for any security who could stop her. Free alcohol gets her through the long shifts and bad pay, but it barely touches the surface of dealing with the rowdy customers who think that because she smiles at them, they’re entitled to flirt with her and try to take her home.

There’s a piano in the corner of the bar, and a man sits at it, playing a tune that sounds familiar to her. She’s never played piano, but her fingers know the melody, and she taps it out on the counter; an overwhelming sadness floods her body, and she wants to cry, but she won’t. She can’t. She has appearances to keep up and people to intimidate, so she blocks the sound out altogether and carries on serving alcohol to anyone who asks for it.

A man sits at the bar, his purple hair framing his face. His eyes are heavy and he looks very drunk - normally, she’d be told not to serve people at this level of intoxication, but money is money and this man looks like he wouldn’t notice if she overcharged him for a gin and pocketed the extra change. 

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” he slurs. She pours it out for him, charging him the usual amount despite her mind telling her otherwise.

“Hey,” he continues, “you’re, like, real pretty.”

“So I’ve been told ten times already this past hour,” she spits back.

“Must be true then,” he laughs, drinking the gin in one swallow, “another one, please.”

She refills his glass five times over the next hour, and he gets progressively more and more drunk. When she tells him that they’re closing up for the night, he pouts and tries to stand up before stumbling and almost landing face first on the bar; the only thing that saves him is that she shoves her arms out to break his fall against the hard wood. 

“Where do you live?” Maki asks.

“Why’d ya wanna know?”

“Because you’re in no state to get home alone.”

“Why’d you care?”

“I don’t. But if someone dies outside this bar, we’ll get shut down, and I need this job. C’mon, I’ll get you a carriage.”

She takes money out of the till to pay for the ride, and links arms with him so that he doesn’t fall on his way outside. When she hails down a carriage, she asks him to tell the driver his address, which he does.

“You comin’?”

“No,” she says.

“Please,” he fake-pouts and then smiles at her, “I might die on the way back ’n then your bar would get shut down.”

“Fine. But you owe me for my ride back.”

“Gotcha. I’m Kaito, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“And your name?”

“Maki.”

She rolls her eyes and sits next to him in the back of the carriage. All of the alarm bells are ringing in her head, but she can’t in good conscience let Kaito stumble home and fall down drunk along the way; he could get trampled by horses, or crack open his skull on the road, and that’s not something she wants on her mind forever. No - it’s better to get this asshole home, and then forget about him, rather than letting him occupy space in her head with the question of whether or not he’s alive.

“I wanna get to know you,” he says, “you’re nice.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re bein’ nice to me.”

“Carry on like this and I’ll stop.”

“Can I at least buy you a drink sometime?”

“You can pay me back for the carriage.”

_“And_ you’ll let me buy you a drink as well?”

“Think about it when you’re sober,” she sighs. The carriage shudders and comes to a stop; she looks out of the window and sees only the pitch black night. They’re not outside a house, just stopped in the middle of a derelict road, and fear begins to set in. She’s still peering out of the window when a face appears, staring through the glass, smiling with exposed teeth at her. The figure slams open the door and points a gun at her.

“Out,” he says.

“Alright,” she replies, grabbing onto Kaito and exiting the carriage, “there’s no need to shoot. We’ll comply.”

“I want your money. _Now.”_

“Okay,” she continues, pulling notes out of her bag. Suddenly, there’s a push from behind her, and Kaito is standing in front of her, a barricade between her and the robber. The barrel of the gun touches his chest, just below his heart, and her eyes widen.

“Kaito - don’t, you’ll-”

The man shoots. He grabs her bag and gets in the carriage, pointing the gun at the driver, ordering him to speed off and leave them.

Then they’re alone. In the middle of nowhere, and Kaito turns around. She looks at him; he looks confused. His hand is clutching his chest, and blood seeps through his shirt. He tries to speak, but can only gasp instead, falling down to the ground. Panicking, she catches him, kneeling down and lowering him so that she’s on the ground and he’s in her arms. 

He reaches up, his bloodstained hand touching her face. Shakily, uncertainly, his face forms a smile.

“D-Don’t forget,” he chokes out, “about t-that drink.”

Then, just like that, all chance of her getting to know him dissipates. She’s just holding a corpse, in the middle of the road, with the darkness surrounding her and tears falling onto Kaito’s bullet wound.

* * *

 

**_1994_ **

Sometimes, Maki thinks about her childhood. Not about the sad parts, all the trauma and the abuse and the times she never imagined making it to adulthood, but about Kaito, that bright eyed, beautiful boy who stood by her side and fought with her when the world seemed to hate the underdog. It’s strange, now, to think that they’ve both reached adulthood and are trying to pave their way across the world by themselves.

There was a period of a few years where they didn’t talk. It’s the darkest part of Maki’s life. Not because he wasn’t there, although that was a factor, but because of the things that she went through in those years. Indoctrinated into a cult, forced to the brink of death only to be pulled back and made to go through it again - the memories are hazy, but the feelings are sharp and solid when they pierce her chest on the nights where she has flashbacks and wakes up screaming.

It’s nights like these, like tonight, where she calls him up and he comes running.

He’s got a key to her apartment, just like she has a key to his. Even though it’s three in the morning, he gets there fast, lets himself in, and makes his way to her bedroom, where she’s sobbing, clutching her duvet as her eyes dart around the room, ready to jump out of the window and start running if anyone comes to take her back. This is a dance that they’ve both performed before, and he approaches her slowly, cautiously, making sure she can always see his hands. He tells her the date, the time, and what the weather is like outside. When she’s ready she moves over in bed and, silently, he gets in beside her.

She rests her head on his chest and he holds her, his arms strong as she goes slack and falls into him. Gently, he plays with her hair and she cries into his chest.

“Shh,” he whispers, “you’re alright. You’re here, with me, and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, am I?”

“N-No.”

“There we go. You’re okay, angel. I’ve got you.”

“I-I c-can’t s-stop c-c-crying,” she sobs.

“That’s okay. It’s okay to cry.”

He comforts her for over an hour, letting her sob and scream until her throat goes hoarse. When she panics, beginning to flail around, he simply lets go of her until she’s aching and tired, and then holds her hands so that she can’t scratch her skin raw.

It’s familiar, everything about this. The nightmares, the panic attacks, but Kaito, too. She finds comfort in the soft laundry smell of his worn-out band t-shirt, knows the traces of scars on his neck and arms from childhood fights, grounds herself in reality by the feeling of his slight stubble brushing against her forehead when she can’t bear to look at the world.

Once her breathing slows to a still faster than normal, but manageable, pace, she shuffles around in bed so that they’re sitting next to each other. Kaito gets up and puts a vinyl record on her player, humming along with the sound of R.E.M. and holding her hand, still. Even into the early hours of the morning, they don’t sleep. She’s not ready to go back to nightmares just yet, but she does find it easier to sleep when she’s in his arms. It’s rolling around to seven in the morning when she nods off in the feeling of safety, as her head rocks on his chest in time with his breathing, keeping her tethered to the present.

She wakes at midday, and he’s still next to her, in the hazy half-life between being awake and asleep. When she lifts her head, it brings him fully into the realm of the living, and he smiles at her. They have late breakfast together, and then they’re in his car, with the stereo turned all the way up and the windows down, driving to nowhere, but doing it faster than hell. 

They park up at a little coffee shop, sitting outside in the sunshine.

“Let’s do something tonight,” she says.

“Of course.”

“Let’s stay out late.”

“Naturally.”

“What do you think?”

“There’s a small concert going on in that bar that’s just opened. I think it’s cheap entry, and I can probably get us backstage, ‘cause I’ve got a few favours to call in with the owner.”

“Perfect.”

The best thing about going out with Kaito is that there are no pretences. She doesn’t have to dress up, or feel uncomfortable in makeup, she just has to shove on a t-shirt, usually one of his, because she likes how baggy they feel on her, and then it’s all about living in the moment. The music at the bar is alright, nothing to write home about but loud enough that there’s no chance of her falling asleep. When Kaito has words with the bar owner, they both go backstage to hang out in the exclusive VIP area for the bands and their entourages.

He takes a little packet out of his pocket and pops a few pills out of it.

“What’s that?” Maki asks.

“Codeine,” he replies, “don’t worry, it’s on prescription. I got it for that leg injury I had last month and the pain’s flaring up again.”

“Are you sure you should be mixing that with alcohol?”

“I know my limits. I’m alright. Promise.”

“Okay,” she says, “I trust you.”

The night blurs on into more alcohol and cigarettes, jam sessions with the band in the VIP area, more pills, and then they’re stumbling home in the early hours of the morning, singing to the streetlights and the air and the taxis parked at the rank.

In the morning, Kaito makes breakfast for her, bringing it to her in bed. He sits at her desk whilst she eats, fiddling with the things she’s left lying around, like he’s making sure she actually _eats_ and doesn’t just pretend to.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says.

“About what?”

“Maybe you should see a therapist.”

“We’ve been through this.”

“I know, I know. But I feel like you’re never going to be ready for it. If you were totally fine with going to therapy, you wouldn’t need it. It’s the resistance towards getting help that worries me.”

“Oh. Is this ‘cause I called you late?”

“God, no. I was awake anyway, and you know I’d go to hell and back for you. I’m just scared, y’know? Scared of not waking up to the phone ringing one day. Scared of finding you…you know…”

“Dead?”

“Yeah.”

“You think I’d kill myself?”

“Not…no…I mean…maybe. Honestly, I don’t know. But you’re not coping. And I don’t know how much longer your mind can take all this repression and anger.”

“So you want me to see a therapist?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t. Not right now.”

“But one day?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe will do for now. But think about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think.”

A few months later, there’s a festival on in one of the big parks in the city. Kaito surprises Maki on the day with last-minute tickets, smiling brightly at her as he shows her what they’ve got planned. They take the bus there, rather than driving, since it’s evident that they’ll be getting far too drunk to drive home; when they arrive, they find a perfect spot on the grass to sit down and lounge in the sun before the music starts.

“Are you not boiling hot?” Maki asks, taking off her flannel shirt and tying it around her waist. Kaito is wearing a thin jumper with a pair of baggy ripped jeans, but he just shrugs, telling her that he doesn’t want to be topless in the crowd. He shuts down the conversation before it even begins, and then the band start to play, the drums drowning out any semblance of talking that they might want to do.

Still, it’s fun. With overpriced beer in cheap plastic cups, and voices shouting that still can’t be heard, they join in with the crowd. When everyone starts to stand up, and Maki can no longer see over the heads of people taller than her, Kaito smiles and lifts her so that she’s sitting on his shoulders, and with her arms in the air, she feels like she’s flying.

Day drinking leaves them weary, and by the time the festival is over, they can’t stand for long enough to wait for the bus home. Kaito calls them a taxi and they go back to her apartment after he tells her that his is ridiculously messy and he doesn’t want to deal with that tonight.

The quietness of the apartment stands in stark contrast to the heavy music of the festival, and Maki feels compelled to break the silence with the only thing that can push through it - the truth.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she says.

“About?”

“About therapy.”

“And?”

“I think I’m gonna give it a try.”

“Really? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah. Will you help me look for one?”

“Of course! And I’ll drive you there. _And_ we’ll get ice cream afterwards!”

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

“Hell yeah! I’m proud of you!”

“I haven’t gone yet.”

“Still, this is a big thing!”

They spend the next day looking through the phone numbers of therapists, calling them up until they settle on one who gives her an appointment for next week. The next seven days are filled with worries about making the wrong choice, about opening up to someone only to have them betray her, but every time she picks up the phone to cancel the appointment, she pictures Kaito’s face in her mind, and she thinks that she owes it to him to at least give it a try.

When he arrives outside her apartment at ten in the morning, it’s raining. He’s not got an umbrella, and he looks tired - there are dark circles around his eyes, and his skin is flushed and blotchy. 

“Are you okay?” Maki asks.

“Yeah! I’m fine, just getting a cold, that’s all.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’d tell you otherwise.”

“You look like you’ve lost a lot of weight.”

“Thanks! I’ve been working out a lot recently.”

“Not like that.”

“I’m taking the compliment anyway,” he smiles, laughing a little, but it sounds hollow. There’s no music behind it like there normally is. On the drive there, he’s silent, right up until the moment she gets out of the car. Almost as if he’s just snapped back to reality from a vivid daydream, he blows her a kiss and tells her that he’ll be waiting outside in an hour.

She wishes he’d come inside the building with her. It looks clinical and cold, and now a new fear emerges. Not the old fears of people not taking her seriously, or betraying her, but a terrifying worry that the therapist _will_ take her seriously, and she’ll become just another Frances Farmer. 

During the appointment, she shifts in her seat. She doesn’t want to be here, but she doesn’t want to be back in Kaito’s car, either. There’s something up with him, and she can’t tell exactly what, but it’s playing on her mind right now far more than any of her own issues.

“Maki, are you there?”

“Oh,” she says, noticing too late that she’d zoned out for the past five minutes whilst the therapist was talking, “yeah, sorry. I got distracted.”

“Do you get distracted easily?”

“No.”

“Is there something on your mind?”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing. I can sort it myself.”

“I’m here to help you. I can’t do that unless you open up to me.”

“No, really, I’m fine,” she says, her eyes darting to the door as she grabs her bag from the floor, “thanks.”

“We still have twenty minutes left.”

“Yeah, sorry. I gotta go. Something’s, uh…I forgot I have to do something.”

“Alright. I won’t stop you. But I hope I can see you again next week.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll call you.”

“Please do.”

She leaves the room, running out of the building. Outside, she waits for Kaito, lighting a cigarette and fidgeting in anticipation until she sees his car pull up in the car park. When he sees that she’s smoking, he gets out and joins her, lighting up a cigarette of his own.

“How’d it go?” Kaito asks.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“There’s something up. I can tell. We’ve known each other all our lives, you can’t lie to me.”

“Did you even go to the appointment?”

“Don’t deflect. Yes, I went. I just left early. Tell me what’s going on with _you.”_

“There’s nothing going on. Really.”

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve been…different for like three months now. You’re losing a lot of weight, you never wear t-shirts anymore, you always look tired and distant. Are you depressed? Kaito…are you self-harming?”

“What? Christ, no! You know me,” he laughs, “and you know I wouldn’t.”

“Then show me.”

“What?”

“Roll up your sleeves.”

“Maki, I’m freezing. I don’t know what’s got you thinking this, but I can promise you, you’re wrong.”

“I won’t believe you until you show me.”

“It’s principle now! Our friendship is built on trust.”

“I’m having a hard time trusting you right now.”

“Come on, let’s just go home, yeah?”

“Fine,” she says. The moment he turns around to open the car door, she holds onto his arm and lifts up the sleeve.

Gasps.

His arm is littered with small bruises, mainly concentrated in the crook of his elbow. Some of them are yellow, some purple, but they’re all marked with scabs and pricks. Closing his eyes for a second, Kaito jams his sleeve back down his arm and gets into the car, waiting for her to join him before he starts the engine and begins to drive.

“I told you I wasn’t self-harming, alright?”

“Yeah, I got that much,” she spits, “but what you’re doing is…it’s the same thing, Kaito!”

“No it’s not.”

“What is it? Morphine? Amphetamines? Heroin?”

“Leave it!”

“Oh my god, it’s heroin.”

“It was only a few times. It looks worse than it is.”

“What _it is_ is you injecting yourself with heroin! Be honest, how many times?”

“Maki…”

_“How many times?”_

“Ten. Maybe fifteen.”

“Honestly?”

“Closer to fifty.”

“Jesus, Kaito!”

“Look, it’s just until I can get another pharmacy to refill my codeine prescription, okay? It’s a stopgap.”

“So what, you were abusing codeine first? And the pharmacy here got wise to it? How long for?”

“A few months. It’s really nothing.”

“No, Kaito, it’s something. It’s a big fucking something.”

“I’ll stop the heroin when I can get this prescription.”

“No, you’ll stop it now. The codeine too. You can’t preach wanting me to go to therapy when you’re sticking yourself with dirty needles and -”

“They’re clean.”

“The fact that you even have to defend that shows that you have a problem! I’m serious, Kaito. You have to stop before it kills you.”

“Maki, leave it. You don’t understand.”

“I understand it _perfectly.”_

“I’m fine!”

“You care about me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!”

“What would you tell me if _I_ was hooked on heroin?”

“I’m not hooked!”

“When was the last time you used?”

“Maki…”

_“When?”_

“Y-Yesterday,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road. Even when they pull up to her apartment, he doesn’t do anything. He just sits in the front seat of the car, waiting for her to make the first move.

“We’re going inside,” she says. It’s an order. He follows her. 

She makes him a cup of tea and sits down on the sofa with him.

“I’m not mad,” she says.

“What?”

“I know I sound like I am. I’m hurt, and I’m worried, and I’m annoyed at myself for not realising earlier, but I’m not mad.”

“Why?”

“Because addiction is a scary thing. You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to stick yourself in the arm with a needle. It built up, and I’m betting it’s got out of your control, now. You just won’t admit it because saying that you have an addiction would hurt your pride too much. I know you. I just want you to be honest with me. That’s all. Just honesty.”

He closes his eyes and rests his head on her chest, the same way she does when she calls him after a nightmare. Like it’s natural, like she’s learned from the best, she plays with his hair and holds him tightly. God, he’s so skinny now. She can feel it with her arms around him; his ribs stick out - even though they’re hidden by his baggy jumper, she can run her hands along them and wish that they were hers. 

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers, “this isn’t forever.”

In response, he sobs.

He promises her the next day that he’ll get clean. Slowly, they start to spend more of their days in soft, gentle places, on evening walks, swimming at night in the lake. They avoid concerts and festivals altogether, as well as anywhere where she thinks Kaito could sneak off and buy dope. It’s restrictive, but they make it work. 

The withdrawals are hell. They sleep in the same bed every night, and Maki wakes up to the sheer heat of Kaito’s body, sweaty and aching; there are hours spent leaning over the toilet bowl, with him vomiting and screaming as she holds his hair back and promises him that eventually, they’ll be over the worst of it. He begs her to just let him get something - any opiates - or to at least let him die. It’s times like this that she has to hold him in bed and rock him until he cries himself into exhaustion. 

But a few months pass, each one better than the last. They start to spend time apart again, not out of hatred or annoyance, but just to test the waters of whether Kaito is going to relapse. And he doesn’t. She’s proud of him each time she sees him. He still isn’t wearing short sleeves, but it’s no longer to hide the needle marks from _her_ , and more to protect his own pride from the judgemental stares of strangers on the street. He only shows her his arms when they’re alone together. When he’s at his most vulnerable, wearing boxers and a loose t-shirt, picking at the scabs in the crook of his elbow to try and feel something like the prick of a needle.

Her nightmares are worse than ever, now. And they’re always about losing him.

She wakes up in a cold sweat, fumbling in the bed for his hand. But he’s not there. Terrified, she sits up and swings her legs over the side of the bed, calling out his name, hoping that he’s just in the bathroom or the kitchen.

There’s no answer.

Bolting to the landline, she dials the number for his apartment and lets it ring. It only takes three rings before she gives up and runs outside in her pyjamas to hail a taxi, shouting Kaito’s address at the driver and telling him to hurry up. When they arrive, she shoves far too much money in his hands, and stumbles out of the car, into the apartment building, and up to Kaito’s place. Using the key he gave her to let herself inside, she shouts his name again.

Hoping for a response.

Begging for a response.

Nothing.

Her entire body goes cold as she considers the possibilities. She traces her way through the apartment, scared to look around each corner, until she reaches the living room and sees him sitting down on the floor with his back to the door.

Her legs crumble as she practically dives towards him, crashing onto the floor. There’s a needle next to his arm, and a tourniquet tied loosely above the elbow; a faint trickle of blood has dried down from the insertion hole. The worst part, however, is how peaceful he looks.

She presses her fingers into his neck, trying to feel for a pulse, but there’s nothing. He’s cold when she touches him, and with tears in her eyes, she runs to the phone and dials an ambulance. Then she’s back next to him, punching him in the solar plexus to try and jumpstart his lungs, screaming at him to wake up, until eventually, the coldness that has long since overtaken his body seeps onto her fingertips, and all she can do is hold him the way she wishes he could hold her right now.

* * *

 

**_2019_ **

Maki never thought that she’d be married, let alone married to someone like Kaito - someone who she tried so hard to convince herself that she hated at first, simply because it was easier than admitting that he got under her skin and forced her to hate _herself_ a little less. But here she is, honeymooning off the coast of a beautiful island, watching him circle the reef underwater, seeing the light in his eyes even through the thick goggles on the headset provided to them by the diving instructors.

The instructors themselves are floating a little way away, giving them both space to explore together. There are radios inside their headsets so that they can talk to each other, and Maki is content to just listen to Kaito’s voice forever, talking about how beautiful it is underwater, and how beautiful it will be when he takes her to space, too.

She looks over at the instructors to give them a wave, but they look frantic, they’re pointing at them and trying to get their attention. Through the headset, she hears something about _swimming parallel to the current,_ but before either of them can process it, a riptide bursts through the water and drags them backwards, pulling them away from the instructors until there’s nothing on the radio but static from far away, and the laboured sounds of each other’s breathing.

When the water deposits them a significant way away from where they were, Maki is disoriented. She doesn’t know which way is up until she sees bubbles rising to the surface, and she realises that they’re far deeper and further away than they were before, to the extent that she can’t even fathom an idea of how to get back to the instructors. But there are more pressing issues.

When she looks around for Kaito, she sees him a few metres away in a cave, struggling to free his leg from being trapped underneath a rock. Panicked, she swims over to him and tries to help him pull, but the rock is far too heavy, and the blood in the water is a clear indication that his leg is broken at best, crushed at worst.

“Go, Maki Roll,” he shouts, and it comes through her radio clearly, “get help!”

“I-I don’t know which way.”

“Just swim to the surface!”

“We’ll be miles out. By the time I get help, your tank will be…”

“If you stay here, we’ll both die!”

“You’re so sure you’re going to die? _Idiot,_ I’m not giving up on you that easily!”

“Maki Roll, we were at the end of the dive. The oxygen is getting low anyway. I’m done for! But you don’t have to be. Quick, swim now! You’ll make it.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. I’m not losing you!”

“C’mon, Maki Roll!”

“No. I’m staying here. If the instructors find us, then great, but if not, then whatever happens to you happens to me, too.”

“Don’t be stupid! You can’t throw your life away like -”

“I’m not! I’m staying with you. You _are_ my life.”

“Maki Roll -”

“Please. Just…save your breath. Literally.”

“I…I don’t want you to die.”

“We might make it out. But I’m damn sure not leaving you, okay?”

“But -”

“Say it. Say _okay.”_

“O-Okay.”

“Good,” she says.

“I’m so glad I married you,” Kaito says, reaching his arms up and touching her helmet.

“Me too. I love you.”

“I love you so much.”

The oxygen tank on her back starts to flash, lighting up the water behind her, and her eyes go wild as she turns around and asks Kaito to see what it’s doing.

“It’s…shit, I think the riptide must have knocked you into something, ‘cause it’s flashing and I…I think it’s broken.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“Hang on,” he says, fiddling with it.

“What are you doing?”

“Just hold on.”

_“Kaito,_ what are you doing?”

“There,” he says after two minutes. The flashing hasn’t stopped, but it’s no longer coming from behind her - it’s coming from behind _him._

“You swapped the tanks? Kaito, you can’t!”

“If what you say is true, and we’re dying anyway, then it doesn’t matter, right?”

She desperately tries to undo her own tank to switch them back, but she can’t manage it, and then he’s holding her hands, smiling at her like he’s not afraid of what’s about to happen. The flashing bursts brightly, faster and faster, until she’s forced to watch him begin to choke inside the helmet, gasping for air that simply isn’t coming, until he goes limp and begins to float on his front in the water. Pulling his body down, she begs for him to say something, to answer her, but he doesn’t. He _can’t._

Screaming out her sorrows, she reaches up to her own helmet and unclasps it. The pressure of the water rushing in shocks her so much that she immediately takes a deep breath of saltwater, and it hits her lungs like knives, creating ice particles in every breath and splitting, crackling along the fault-lines of her body; it feels like every bone is breaking. She coughs out water and breathes it in all the same, until her vision greys out and everything goes black.

The last thing she feels is his hand in hers.

* * *

 

**_FOREVER_ **

At first, she thinks she’s in a hospital. Everything around her is white, brilliant and burning all at once, and as much as it hurts her eyes, she can’t bear to close them. As her senses come back to her, slowly, she realises that she’s lying on solid ground, and she stands up, looking around her. Everything is so similar, so lemniscate and otherworldly, that she can’t tell where the floor ends and the walls begin, or if there’s even a ceiling above her.

There’s a shift in the light, and a hole opens up in what she presumes to be the wall, although it looks merely like there’s a dark mass floating in the air in front of her. Through it, she sees someone walking. Someone familiar, even though his appearance is hard to settle on. He doesn’t look like a person, he looks more like the _idea_ of a person, seeming all at once to be a gentleman with sorrow in his eyes, a strangely charming drunk, a flannel-wearing lost soul, a diver with a bright smile on his face. In between all of this, all of the confusion and blurred imagery, there’s an overwhelming sense of peace. Of finality. Of getting things in the right order for the first time in the whole of eternity.

Then there’s a woman. She’s not unfocused like the man, nor does she appear through a sort of door in the wall, she just _appears,_ like she was always there, and Maki can only now see her. She has a soft smile, blue hair, and a simple pair of glasses, through which her infinite eyes pierce right through her.

“Finally,” she says, with a distant echo in her voice that makes it sound like it’s coming from every direction, “I got things right. You went together.”

“W-Went where?” Maki says, looking over to the man for a response.

He replies with equal confusion. “Where are we?”

“Wait,” she says, “I-I know you, don’t I?”

“I…yeah, I know you, too. Who are you?”

“Who are _you?”_

“Calm down,” the woman says, “you’ll understand it all in due time. Come, walk with me, and I’ll explain everything.”

As she leads them down the white trail, flowers bloom around them until the whole place turns into a beautiful garden scene, stretching on into an expanse of forever.

“You’re soulmates,” she continues, “the strongest I’ve ever seen. But things kept happening in the wrong order.”

“What do you mean?” Maki asks.

“You’ve met thousands of times over the entire span of the universe. There’s even rumours among the angels that you two _were_ the atoms that created the Big Bang.”

“So, we’re…dead?”

“In a way, yes. It’s not the first time you’ve died, but it’s the last. You see, Kaito - you kept dying first.”

“Kaito,” Maki says, “I know that name.”

“Yes. The past iterations of you have been centuries apart. Every time Kaito died, instead of coming to Heaven like you were supposed to, your soul couldn’t be parted from Maki’s. So, you reincarnated, each time meeting, each time falling in love, however briefly.”

“So why are we here now?” Kaito asks.

“We finally got it right. I apologise for taking you both so soon, in your twenties, but it was the only way to ensure that you died at the same time.”

“And now…?”

“Now, things are ordered again. The universe is back in balance. You don’t have to live a million lives, searching for each other over and over, always ending in tragedy. You’re together, as you should be, and now, you can rest.”

“Together?” Maki says.

“Don’t you feel it? The connection,” the woman holds onto both of their hands and joins them together.

“I…”

“Maki,” Kaito says, “I…”

“I know,” she replies.

“I think there was something I tried to tell you, once. I couldn’t get the whole sentence out.”

“And the sentence was?”

“I think you know.”

“Yeah,” she smiles at him as the woman vanishes and they’re left in the garden alone, “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> #momoharuweek2019 - day four. The prompts were historical/angst and I went with both.
> 
> Title from (obviously) 'House of the Rising Sun' by The Animals.


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